Domino Effect
by Fate's Apprentice
Summary: It was one of those things they just didn't talk about: the reason. There had to be a reason, better than the one given, for why America had declared independence all those years ago. But when Arthur overhears just what that reason was, it triggers a domino effect that reveals America to be so much more than anyone had ever expected. Mainly UsUk with FranCan and GerIta.
1. Rebel With A Cause

**Title: **DOMINO EFFECT

**Author: **Fate's Apprentice

**Language: **English

**Rating: **M- Mature.

**Fandom: **Hetalia- Axis Powers

**Genre: **Romance/Family

**Characters: **America (Alfred Jones)/England (Arthur Kirkland)

**Summary: **It was one of those things they just didn't talk about: the reason. There had to be a reason, better than the one given, for why America had declared independence all those years ago. But when Arthur overhears just what that reason was, it triggers a domino effect that reveals America to be so much more than anyone had ever expected. Us/Uk. Canada/France

**Chapters:** 1/?

**Word Count: **1,102/?

**Status: **Incomplete

**Warnings:** Adult language and themes. Some sexual content. Mildly OOC, as I kind of made up this idea and it could never happen in the series, so I don't want any reviews telling me all about how it could never happen, since I already know that. This is nearly AU, but sticks to the main universe, just veering off a little here and there. You don't like it, then don't read it.

**A/N:** Ages have been slightly adjusted for both my story to work and my general fancy:

_America_: 19 years old

_England_: 23 years old

_France_: 26 years old

_Canada_: 21 years old

**Beta: **dignifiedPianist

* * *

_**Chapter One: Rebel With A Cause**_

As a rule, England genuinely tried not to let his former charge's childish antics get to him. But if America didn't stop making that infernal tapping noise then it wouldn't entirely be the older's fault if he strangled him. He risked a glance at said infuriating nation and caught the American sneaking yet another look at his watch. England's lips pursed with thought; _what was with America lately?_

The younger nation had become unbelievably quiet over the last couple of months. The spring in America's step had slowly dissipated and dark shadows had formed under those formerly brilliant sapphire eyes. Alfred was constantly falling asleep throughout world meetings and, England wasn't entirely sure, but he also suspected the younger had lost a concerning amount of weight. Britain would be loathe to admit it, but he was worried about the blue-eyed nation.

He chanced yet another glance at the American and locked eyes with him by mistake. America's cheeks flushed and the younger immediately looked away. England opened his mouth to question this behavior- as America was seated right beside him- but fate (or rather Italy) intervened.

"Germany," said Italian whined, cutting off the addressed nation mid-sentence, "I'm hungry!"

England couldn't resist a chuckle at Germany's expression, torn between the desire to get work done and his blatant adoration for the pasta-loving nation. He heard America laugh as well and when England glanced at him, the other smiled back instinctively. England felt his face heat and looked down at his lap. Evidently, love had won out in Germany's inner turmoil and they were dismissed for lunch. Before England could look back at the American, though heat having faded from his features, the former was gone.

Arthur bristled, swallowing back his irritation, and headed for lunch as well. He maneuvered though the crowd of varying countries to buy a cup of tea and was only just searching for a place to sit when America, talking to some country he recognized but didn't know, caught his eye.

What England did know was that both, eerily similar looking nations, had been getting on famously these past few months and the Englishman felt a surge of jealousy at this thought. _Why did America get along with this other nation but not him?_

He restrained himself from interrupting whatever incredibly immature conversation the two were probably having and continued on to a table behind them. He paused though, mid-step, at the use of his name.

"You never did tell me why you did it. I mean… were you mad at England?" the other nation asked and America seemed mildly perturbed at this allegation.

"No. We were close. I adored England," America replied after a moment of thought.

"Then why go to war?" pressed the unnamed country and, by now, England had filled in the blanks and wanted to hear the answer as well.

America shook his head dismissively, "I never wanted to go to war. I just wanted independence. It got out of hand and even when I changed my mind… it was too late. I offered an Olive Branch and he wouldn't even consider…" here America trailed off.

England's breath caught and America's expression, with all of his devastation and regret, made his heart ache in his chest. Arthur remembered the Olive Branch Petition; on the brink of war America had offered reconciliation, seeming to have changed his mind but England had already been hurt. Resentful, Britain hadn't even given an answer and continued on as if nothing had ever happened.

Arthur opened his mouth to interject, but bit his lip abruptly, thinking better of it. This was supposed to be a private conversation; he didn't want to even consider what might happen if either knew he was listening in. There was a long moment of silence where the unnamed country seemed deep in thought and America prodded him after a moment, "Canada?"

England blinked. _Yes, that was the other's name. _He turned to continue onto his chosen table, suddenly realizing with the drop in conversation that he was eavesdropping quite obviously and none too eager to be caught. He paused at Canada's question, mid-step, his attention caught once more.

"Why'd you want independence?"

This was a fair enough question and England had pondered it himself on more than one occasion. There just had to be more to it than the excuse he'd been given, right? "Taxes," America responded on cue, but his voice was tight; wrong.

"That's the only reason?" alleged Canada, brow cocked. England had similar doubts and, needing to hear the other's reply but not wanting to be caught, he moved to stand halfway behind a pillar. He knew this was wrong, but the Arthur was desperate. There had to be another reason and the younger nation certainly wasn't going to tell him it voluntarily.

America paused before nodding hesitatingly and Canada smiled softly. "You're a bad liar, Alfred." England bit his lip at the sound of the youngest country's human name, a fresh wave of jealousy washing over him.

"America?" prodded the Canadian when America remained silent. Finally, the blue-eyed country lifted his head once more to meet Canada's gaze, "What do you want me to tell you, Matt?" replied the American. More jealousy flooded him with the obvious familiarity between the two, but this time it was followed by curiosity. America seemed… defensive?

"The truth," returned Canada and America was again silent before taking a brave breath, "I didn't want him to see me as his little brother," he replied at last. That stung England, but it provoked another question.

"Why?" Canada asked, as if reading Arthur's mind.

America shook his head with bitter amusement, "I was selfish and greedy and impulsive. I… I made a mistake," his voice got quieter and quieter until it faded away completely and England took a half-step forward, heart aching to comfort his former charge. Canada's words were what made him pause once more, "What did you want?" he asked with a patience that England didn't possess.

America fell into a pensive silence and Canada nudged his arm gently. Alfred paused before finally murmuring, "I wanted more…"

"More?" questioned Canada.

America nodded.

"Like friends?"

A faint smile touched the blue-eyed male's lips, "More than friends."

The connotation of the words made England's breath catch and, forgetting himself, he dropped his plate with a loud clatter which earned him Canada and America's full attention…

…and sent America running.


	2. Don't Say Anything

**Title: **DOMINO EFFECT

**Author: **Fate's Apprentice

**Language: **English

**Rating: **M- Mature.

**Fandom: **Hetalia- Axis Powers

**Genre: **Romance/Family

**Characters: **America (Alfred Jones)/England (Arthur Kirkland)

**Summary: **It was one of those things they just didn't talk about: the reason. There had to be a reason, better than the one given, for why America had declared independence all those years ago. But when Arthur overhears just what that reason was, it triggers a domino effect that reveals America to be so much more than anyone had ever expected. Us/Uk. Canada/France

**Chapters:** 2/?

**Word Count: **2,117/3071

**Status: **Incomplete

**Warnings:** Adult language and themes. Some sexual content. Mildly OOC, as I kind of made up this idea and it could never happen in the series, so I don't want any reviews telling me all about how it could never happen, since I already know that. This is nearly AU, but sticks to the main universe, just veering off a little here and there. You don't like it, then don't read it.

**A/N:** Ages have been slightly adjusted for both my story to work and my general fancy:

· America: 19 years old

· England: 23 years old

· France: 26 years old

· Canada: 21 years old

**Beta: **dignifiedPianist

* * *

**Chapter Two: Don't Say Anything**

America doesn't run away, ever. Or at least he's not supposed to. He's **America** for Pete sake! But he did. The youngest allied nation turned on his heels and, without any hesitation or chance for second thought, fled for the exit. He thundered down the stairs, ignoring the desperate calls after him, and threw open the door before darting out into the light of day.

He didn't even consider slowing down until he'd put no at least a hundred feet between himself and the building from where he'd come. When the terror had at least partly faded, and he could breathe once more, his footfalls slowed to a walk and his mind kicked into overdrive. What the hell was he supposed to do now? How could he ever face England again? He swallowed hard and brushed his fingers through skewed blond locks, pressing them back into place as hopelessness settled over him. He was completely and utterly screwed.

"America!"

The shout of his name caught his attention, especially since he knew who that voice belonged to. A hand on his shoulder spread warmth through him, but he ignored it, favoring the onslaught of panic. He whirled around on impulse to face the green-eyed male and opened his mouth to fumble out a half-assed excuse, but was silenced instead. A hand caught his wrist before he could run and the Brit took a step toward him. "Don't say anything," Implored the older nation. Before he could even think of how to respond to that, England closed the distance between them and caught America's mouth with his own.

America froze, taking a few moments to realize what was happening, and even then he couldn't seem to remember how to get his body to respond. For a small eternity, the two nations stood with their mouths pressed together like two halves of a sandwich but, just when England was about to surrender and pull away, America finally remembered how to move. His entire lengthy form melted against the other, lean arms lifting to wrap around the older's neck and mouth pressing enthusiastically back against England's.

Relief filled the older country like a drug and he allowed his arms to slip around the American, pulling the younger close to him. He kissed America until they were both breathless before pulling back just a bit, and he couldn't resist a small chuckle at the younger's whine of protest. A blush colored the American's cheeks and satisfaction filled England to the brim, _he'd been the one to do that._

The older raised a brow at the silence that followed and America, after fully collecting himself, duplicated the action. "What? I can speak now?" His tone was playful, borderline flirtatious. This surprised England. After so many years of scathing replies filled with sarcasm and irritation, it was shocking to him that the American could even sound like that, never mind when speaking to him. It sent a shiver of lust through him and, suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to kiss America senseless

His lips quirk, "Of course you can, you git." He replied, barely restraining himself.

America smiled brilliantly, sapphire eyes dancing in the glow of the setting sun, "Kiss me again?" he requested, confidence restored and previous panic entirely forgotten.

England's green eyes shimmer as a smile lights up his features, "With pleasure," he replied and sealed the gap between them once more.

* * *

-Domino Effect-

* * *

He didn't drop his hand. No, even when the two returned to the meeting, England had insisted on keeping America's hand clasped tightly with his own with no concern for what anyone else thought. It's not like America minded; in fact he was thrilled, it was just incredibly unexpected. England was all about rules and protocol and how everyone else saw him. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why the other was content to kiss _him _and hold _his _hand and be with _him_**. **

The two hadn't had a moment to talk since Canada had interrupted them mid-kiss to inform them that Germany was waiting on them, and he wasn't too pleased either. After all, they were in London; England was kind of the host, he sort of had to be there.

So the two had returned with Canada, and said nation had been sneaking looks at America, trying his damnedest to get some answers out of the youngest country whenever he could. It was kind of amusing and America appreciated the comic relief as he struggled to keep some semblance of his sanity.

It just didn't make sense.

The older had led them both to their seats and apologized to Germany for their tardiness, but the normally scary nation seemed more preoccupied with the sight of their intertwined hands, as did every other country in the room. England didn't even seem to notice and it bugged the hell out of America; it was so out of character that it was no longer amusing.

A piece of paper with England's neat cursive was pushed in front of him and his doubts were abandoned immediately in favor of curiosity. England, passing notes in the middle of a meeting? Had he been transported to another dimension?

England knew it wasn't like him, but he hadn't had a chance to talk to the American. Neither had any idea where they stood in respect to the other and, while England had an idea of where he wanted to be with the American, he needed to know and patience wasn't exactly his strong point. As for holding the younger's hand, what would it say about him if he pretended nothing had happened in the company of others? No, he was an honest man and he _honestly_ adored the American, so why should he change his behavior for anyone else?

America glanced down at the scrap of paper:

**What are you thinking about?**

America pursed his lips and risked a glance at the older male, locking green eyes with his own. He felt a flood of heat rise to his face and he looked back down at the piece of parchment. Pausing, he wrote back:

**You.**

It was brazen of him, but honest, and he passed the note back, his sapphire eyes watching Germany to make sure he hadn't noticed. Italy was going on about pasta and it's ability to solve all the world's problems. He knew it couldn't, but he appreciated the thought. Wouldn't it be cool if something like pasta or hamburgers could fix everything? England had replied by now and pushed the scrap back toward him:

**Oh, really now? Care to elaborate?**

America felt a bubble of laughter float to his lips but he swallowed it down and risked another glance at Germany, back to his old self and going full throttle about some meaningless topic the teenager couldn't care less about. He stuck his tongue between his teeth in thought before picking up his pen:

**Why'd you hold my hand?**

He pushed it toward England before he lost his nerve and stuck his face in his hands, trying to cool his heated flesh with slick palms. He brushed his hair back from his face, a nervous habit he should really try to be rid of, and glanced over at England who seemed to be deep in thought.

Canada bumped his arm gently and the younger nation glanced over at him to see his brow raised with a silent question. America smiled brightly in answer and was about to whisper an actual reply when the scratch of paper on wood alerted him that England was finished. He glanced back over:

**Should I not have?**

_Leave it to England to answer a question with another question, _America chuckled silently to himself. He tapped his pen against his smiling lips, before bringing it once more to the paper:

**No. It's good. I was just curious.**

America pushed it back toward him when Germany was focused on Italy and Romano's squabbling, and then paused to watch England's face as he read it. Relief pushed the Englishmen's shoulders back down and lifted his gaze to meet America's. He spared a small smile just for the American before focusing his attention on a reply:

**I wanted to.**

England glanced at Germany with little concern before pushing the scrap to his left. They were quickly running out of room, this meeting had better end soon. Ordinarily, he expressed more concern for the matters at hand, but there was nothing really requiring his attention or input at the moment. This meeting was mostly about poverty, and both England and America had already been addressed. It made sense that they should be dismissed since they weren't contributing. Then again, England was hosting…

He glanced over at the younger when the note was pushed his way again:

**Why?**

England chuckled softly, _Did the American need to analyze everything? Couldn't he just let some things be?_ Picking up his pen, he spared a glance at said country:

**That's like asking why I kissed you. Does it really need explanation?**

England pushed it back and had to choke down a laugh at America's noise of discontent. _Why doesn't he just ask what he really wants to know? _England bit his lip to keep his smile from gathering too much attention. He tapped his fingers on the table impatiently as he waited for the other's reply:

**Yes. Both do. PLEASE tell me.**

England picked up the scrap of paper and examined it for a moment, buying time while he thought how to properly word what he wanted to say:

**Well, you have feelings for me? Right, ****America ****Alfred? Romantic ones?**

America heaved a heavy sigh when he caught the writing on the scrap as England pushed it back. He bit his lip and counted to ten. The other country was infuriating! _Why not just tell him? Why all this foreplay?_ The fact that England had used his human name caught his attention nevertheless, and he had to force back a small smile. He bit his lip before answering carefully:

**Yes. I do. Did you not hear me earlier?**

America made a noise of irritation when he watched the Brit quickly shove the note into his coat pocket. _Damn him_. He jumped a little when he felt Arthur take his hand and America felt his irritation melt away rather quickly and a small part of him hated the older country for having such control over him. It took some time but they were all dismissed and America paused to think as England kept their hands together. He tipped an eyebrow up at the Englishmen who merely smiled, and nodded at the door. When they'd reached the exit and were, for the most part, alone, America turned on him quickly, "You never answered my damn question!"

England leaned up and caught the other's mouth gently, dissolving all of the younger's irritation and frustration. Long arms slipped around his neck and knotted in his hair, skewing the blond locks and tugging at England's heartstrings. When they broke, America laughed breathlessly, "You know you just can't kiss me every time you don't want to answer me, Eng- Arthur."

England didn't miss the younger country's correction and the sound of his Christian name on the American's lips did things to him that nothing else could. He smiled softly and nudged America's forehead with his own. "Why not?" He hummed in reply.

America gave an exasperated noise. "Because you'll drive me crazy!" Replied the younger irritably. Usually, that tone alone would be enough to make the Brit snap, but in this situation, it merely provoked him to catch the younger's lips in a chaste kiss. "Short trip, love." He hummed in an amused fashion. America blew a raspberry and England kissed him anyway before sighing, surrendering to the younger man's dramatics.

He brushed blond tresses from the taller nation's forehead and smiled indulgently, "_Because_ your feelings are reciprocated. _Because_ I wanted to. _Because_ it felt good." He leaned closer and stole the other's mouth again, "And _because_ I wanted you to know something," he teased softly, warm breath sending shivers down America's spine.

"What's that?" asked the younger country, tone breathless and awestruck. England flashed an irresistible little smile. He pressed his forehead firmly against the other's and tightened his arms around America possessively.

"You're mine."

* * *

TBC.

Review!


	3. Gentle

**Title: **DOMINO EFFECT

**Author: **Fate's Apprentice

**Language: **English

**Rating: **M- Mature.

**Fandom: **Hetalia- Axis Powers

**Genre: **Romance/Family

**Characters: **America (Alfred Jones)/England (Arthur Kirkland)

**Summary: **It was one of those things they just didn't talk about: the reason. There had to be a reason, better than the one given, for why America had declared independence all those years ago. But when Arthur overhears just what that reason was, it triggers a domino effect that reveals America to be so much more than anyone had ever expected. Us/Uk. Canada/France

**Chapters:** 3/?

**Word Count: ** 3268/6339

**Status: **Incomplete

**Warnings:** Adult language and themes. Explicit sexual content. Mildly OOC, as I kind of made up this idea and it could never happen in the series, so I don't want any reviews telling me all about how it could never happen, since I already know that. This is nearly AU, but sticks to the main universe, just veering off a little here and there. You don't like it, then don't read it.

**A/N:** Ages have been slightly adjusted for both my story to work and my general fancy:

· America: 19 years old

· England: 23 years old

· France: 26 years old

· Canada: 21 years old

**Beta: **dignifiedPianist

* * *

**Chapter Three:**

_Gentle_

* * *

"How mad do you think they'd be if you _accidentally_ missed your flight this evening and had to stay another night… or two?" England inquired over the brim of his raised teacup as he smiled knowingly at his American companion. Alfred blinked; surprise and confusion evident in his gaze as he frowned in thought and set his fork back onto his plate.

"What flight?" questioned the youngest nation. Now it was Arthur's turn to look confused; the older tilted his head up at the American before explaining, "Your flight… back to the United States?"

Realization flooded Alfred's features, quickly followed by panic as he scrambled to come up with some excuse for his confusion. He bit his lower lip harshly before finally stammering out, "I-it's not till tomorrow!"

Now, Arthur was not a slow country by any means, and it didn't take a genius to realize the other wasn't entirely telling the truth. This, coupled with Alfred's odd behavior over the last couple of months, concerned the Brit. He swallowed the emotion down forcibly, not wanting to cause Alfred further panic, as he already seemed on edge.

England smiled patiently, "Alright, well we've got nothing to worry about then." the older country appeased and America blinked once more with confusion. "Wait, why would I accidentally miss my flight?"

Arthur snorted oh-so-politely and gave Alfred a critical look, "Are you really that dense, love?"

England watched the other's lips curl for a moment before it dawned on him: Alfred was merely teasing him. He pursed his lips; _alright, two can play at this game_. He had to force himself not to smile back at Alfred before crinkling his nose with distaste, "Apparently so. Well, alright then. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then I guess I'll just walk you back to your hotel now."

With that, the Englishman stood and laid some cash over the bill they'd received only moments ago, inclining his head at Alfred. The younger froze completely and swallowed forcibly, panic once again flashing across his evasive gaze, "I- no. I know what you're talking about, Iggy." He evaded, praying for the nickname to distract his former mentor.

It worked. Arthur frowned, emerald eyes narrowing as he elbowed the younger lightly, "Don't call me that, Alfred." Mock anger flashed in his eyes and Alfred chuckled, "But why not, _love_?" he put emphasis on the term of endearment the Brit had used on him only moments ago. America felt relief flood him when the other flushed hotly with his teasing; _Evasion successful. _

"Shut up, you git." Arthur chuckled lightly, not meaning one word of it. He never wanted the other to stop talking to him. Ever. They headed for the door as Alfred joined him in his laughter, blue eyes gleaming as they stepped out into the night. As the door fell shut behind him, the inhabitants of the restaurant who'd been listening with amusement to the two could hear the American pause briefly.

"Hey, Arthur, what is a 'git' anyway?"

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but shut it once more and chuckled fondly as he watched the other run ahead. The two had been together for nearly two months now, but work and Alfred's evasive mindset (which Arthur still hadn't gotten to the bottom of) had made any time alone nearly impossible for the new couple. This was the first time they'd been able to catch a few moments together since they'd first gotten together and Arthur was anxious. Two months of sneaking kisses and holding hands under the table meant that both countries were ecstatic when their monthly summit ended early. England had been the host once more so getting Alfred back to his home for the night had become paramount in Arthur's mind.

It was cold in London and England watched as the American dug his hands deeper into his pockets; little flurries of snowflakes clinging to his coat and hair. He chuckled as Alfred looked around in wonder; the American was known for his love of snow. The younger spun around in dizzy, lazy circles, eyes cast skyward and tongue catching each bit of frozen water as it fell from the heavens. Usually Alfred's childish and immature nature was nothing but infuriating, but right now it was all too endearing. The Englishman bent down to scoop up some of the snow that was starting to accumulate on the sidewalk and packed it lightly into a snowball before winging it at the American.

Alfred jumped, yelping as the frozen water hit flushed skin before finding its way under his collar and slipping down his neck. He met the other's gaze determinedly; _challenge accepted._ Arthur offered a smile, but Alfred was having none of it. The American bent to scoop up his own ball of snow, but when he straightened England was already halfway down the block.

"Hey! Arthur! Get back here!" his boyfriend called after before starting a pursuit. The older's laughter echoed down the road and Arthur turned a sharp corner just as a snowball was sent whizzing past his ear. He started to sprint for his home, but the American was faster than he looked and he was soon tackled roughly into the snow. Arthur cast his gaze upward at his attacker and Alfred smiled victoriously at him before slipping a handful of snow down the Englishman's collar.

"Hey!" Arthur yelped in protest and squirmed violently against the icy coldness that slid down his skin. Alfred laughed, and Arthur immediately decided that the musical sound was well worth the bitter slush worming its way beneath his many layers of clothing. He grabbed the younger's collar and dragged Alfred's face down close to his own to catch the other's mouth and kiss him passionately. Alfred's laughter morphed into the most intimate of moans, and Arthur reveled in the sound. He slipped cold fingers beneath the hem of the younger's shirt and traced imaginary designs across the vast expanse of heated skin, delighting in the shiver that traveled down Alfred's spine.

Snow clung to Arthur's own blond locks and stuck to his warm skin as wetness seeped through his clothing, but he didn't mind any of it as long as the younger was the cause. He chuckled and shoved Alfred off when it was least expected, moving to straddle the American's waist and grin playfully down at him. He leaned in close, a hair's breadth away from America's lips, and then shoved a fist full of ice and snow down the younger's shirt. Alfred yelped, not expecting any of it, and the older country scrambled up to make a mad dash for his home. Alfred's footsteps were soon heard not too far behind and Arthur threw open his door, laughing like mad. He flung off his jacket before kicking off his boots and ascending the stairs to look for a place to hide.

Back on the lower floor, the younger nation slowly creaked open the door, blue eyes gleaming with delight at this newfound game whilst he searched every corner imaginable for the older nation. He closed the door quietly behind him and quickly slipped out of his jacket and boots, exploring the other's living room with a grin permanently stretched across his laughing lips. When he had deemed this floor Arthur-free he cautiously climbed the stairs, all the while waiting for the Englishman to launch an assault on him.

"Iggy?" he called into the seemingly abandoned bedroom. The nickname was used in hopes of irritating the Brit enough that he would reveal himself in his haste to complain. It didn't work, and Alfred pursed his lips in thought. _If he were Arthur, where would he hide?_

He smiled and bent to look under the bed, but was suddenly tackled onto it by a giggling Arthur. The older pinned him to the bed and straddled his waist, large emerald eyes twinkling playfully down at him.

"Where were you?" questioned the American when his laughter had ceased and he was once again coherent. England chuckled, "Behind the door, you git!" he exclaimed like it was the most obvious place in the world. Alfred didn't have the chance to reply before the other kissed him with a passion he hadn't known England possessed.

He arched his back as Arthur slipped his icy fingertips beneath his shirt to caress heated skin. The older broke his kiss to tug the younger's shirt up some and Alfred, understanding the unspoken command, sat up a little to help Arthur rid him of it. He was shoved back down against the mattress the moment his shirt hit the floor. "Pushy, aren't we?" He teased and Arthur chuckled before silencing him with another heated kiss. His wrists were pinned above his head with a single hand, and then the older was grinding his hips down on America's.

Alfred groaned as the older dragged his lips away and peppered hot kisses along the line of his jaw and down his neck. Arthur continued these glorious administrations down to his collar bone before moving to tease his nipples. Alfred felt his face flush with desire as he gasped and squirmed beneath the older. England chuckled against his skin and it sent another shiver up the American's spine.

"Arthur…" he whined and arched his back. The older hummed in response and trailed his fingertips along the waist of Alfred's trousers. "Yes?"

America whined and bucked his hips with impatience, "Please…" he groaned in reply. Arthur chuckled against his neck, sucking at his pulse point hard enough to leave a mark before dragging his lips up to kiss the shell of Alfred's ear, "Please what?" he teased. Alfred whined wordlessly in reply and bucked into the other once more.

"I'm not a mind reader, love. You have to _tell_ me what you want." He chuckled lightly as he kissed the skin near the younger's ear. Alfred whined in protest and shivered at the heat of the other's breath. He struggled between his pride and desire for a moment before giving in, "Touch me." He whispered back, face flushing bright red.

Arthur's lips tugged into a grin at the victory and he kissed the other lightly, "Since you asked _so _nicely." He teased before brushing his fingers along the evident bulge in the American's trousers. Alfred's hips lifted with obvious impatience. He allowed the other to remove his pants and shivered as skilled fingers brushed along his inner thigh.

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut, "Damn tease." He muttered and Arthur chuckled as he shifted to kiss the line of America's jaw with a knowing grin. "I could stop right now, love." He hummed, slipping fingers into the younger's boxers and skimming fingers against the younger's erection.

"You wouldn't," Alfred murmured, eyes on the other. England chuckled and conceded, "No, I wouldn't." before wrapping delicate fingers around America's length and delighting in the other's intake of breath as he pumped the American's length slowly.

There had never been a more enchanting sensation for the younger, it couldn't compare to the touch of his own hand. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He was getting carried away too quickly and it didn't help that Arthur began to pick up the pace, skimming a thumb over the top of his head. He squeezed gently, fondling his balls as well and Alfred bit his lip hard. He swallowed hard and his voice was shaky when he begged the other to stop. Arthur narrowed his gaze in confusion but nevertheless, stilled his hand. His boyfriend's look called for an explanation and Alfred, however embarrassed, still managed to stammer out, "I-I don't wanna c-cum yet."

England's eyes softened with realization and his voice was soothing when he spoke. "Alfred, are you a virgin?" he asked, tone colored with surprise. He'd figured the other had to have been with someone in his nineteen years, but Alfred's reaction contradicted that assessment; Arthur had barely touched him and the younger was already close. America's face flushed hotly and he looked away as he nodded.

He jumped just a little when England kissed him sweetly, mouth moving gently against his own and hand moving to cradle his jaw. Arthur broke the kiss and Alfred lifted his gaze to meet the older's hesitantly. "I'll go slower," he promised before kissing the other lightly. America visibly relaxed and hummed contentedly when his boyfriend shifted his attention to his neck.

Arthur let go of the younger's wrists and put that hand to use with feather light touches to the younger's torso. Alfred raised a hand to entangle fingers in the other's hair and tugged at Arthur's shirt lightly with the other. He watched England pause to sit up and begin unbuttoning the garment, but America quickly brushed the Brit's hands away; _that's __my__ job._

When he slipped the last button from its loop with surprisingly steady hands, Alfred pushed the fabric from Arthur's shoulders and smiled as it fell to the ground, pleased with this small accomplishment. Endeared by Alfred's actions, England kissed the other heatedly and hummed with pleasure as the younger trailed fingertips down his back. Arthur's trousers were soon added to the pile of clothing at the side of his bed and he hummed with pleasure as America's hand took the initiative to explore the newly revealed skin.

England pressed the other back into the mattress and kissed him sweetly before wrapping his fingers once more around the younger's erection. He lifted his gaze to check with the American, "This okay?" he murmured. Alfred nodded enthusiastically and Arthur, reassured by this reaction, began to move his hand. He leaned up and stole the other's mouth in a passionate kiss as he squeezed the younger's erection lightly. Alfred moaned into his mouth and England smiled at this, nipping his lower lip. America lifted an arm to wrap it around the Brit's neck, threading nimble fingers through the blonde locks. Alfred's endurance lasted quite a bit longer this time, and only when the younger's hips began to buck with obvious desperation did Arthur release him.

The younger broke the kiss to gasp for breath while Arthur moved to lean over Alfred and rummage through his bedside table. He returned at America's side once more with a bottle of lube and America raised an eyebrow at the implications of it being in the other's possession.

Arthur felt his cheeks redden and Alfred laughed. "Got something to share with the class, Iggy-dearest?" he hummed and Arthur silenced him with a kiss before pouring a generous amount over his fingertips. Alfred allowed him to slip between his legs and circle his entrance with a single digit while he tried not to squirm too much. Arthur paused, breaking the kiss to spare a glance at the other, "This okay?" he asked once more. Alfred nodded; though this time there was obvious anxiety in the American's gaze, "Yeah, just…" he trailed off, struggling for the right words. Arthur kissed him sweetly, "I'll be gentle." He promised, as if able to read the younger's mind.

England moved to busy him with a kiss as he slipped a finger inside, and America stiffened at the intrusion. Arthur broke the kiss to check on the younger; "You okay?" he asked the taller male. Alfred's nose was scrunched up and his body was stiff, "Yeah… it just feels funny." He murmured softly. Arthur nodded. "It'll get better, I promise," and with thathe resumed their kiss. One finger soon became two and he stretched the other carefully, determined to make America's first time pleasurable for both of them.

Alfred flinched when England hit a particularly sensitive spot, a burning sensation making the feeling unpleasant but not unbearable. He bit his lip, not wanting to worry the older, as he definitely wanted Arthur to keep going despite the minimal discomfort. He tried to relax his body as Arthur had told him and bit his lip roughly as a third finger was added. The pain was starting to get to him even with Arthur's caution. The Brit seemed to be looking for something and Alfred was at a loss for what it could possibly be, until the older brushed a spot in him that made all his pain nothing more than a memory.

Pleasure, hot and sharp, ran through him and Alfred bucked and cried out. He heard Arthur chuckle and press against the spot firmly until he was begging and desperate for more. Those fingers were withdrawn and the younger whined with protest until he saw the other slicking himself with the remaining lubricant. Anxiety began to fill him with doubts but Arthur silenced them with a loving look and a passionate kiss.

He hissed, more with surprise than pain, when he felt the older slip inside him. Arthur froze until Alfred's body relaxed once more, before pushing all the way inside. The younger ignored the subtle burn in favor of the pleasure starting to build. "Okay?" he heard England murmur in his ear, his voice strained with restraint. A warm sensation filled him at the thought that England was waiting to make sure he was okay, regardless of how badly he wanted to move.

Alfred nodded, "Move." He murmured softly, bucking lightly into the other and moaning at the instantaneous pleasure. Arthur didn't waste any time before sliding out and then all the way back in. He repeated the action, slowly building his pace as the burn started to fade completely, replaced by overwhelming pleasure.

He'd been rather proud of his endurance this far, but that was fading. He was quickly unraveling as his fingers tangled themselves in England's hair and his hips bucked into the other with abandon. He heard someone moaning and he wasn't entirely sure if that was him or the other as he hid his flushed face in the crook of Arthur's neck. His chest was heaving and he was hot all over and he was so fucking close. For a moment, he couldn't breathe and then he couldn't think. He cried out the other's name and clung to him as he reached his climax and came over their stomachs. Arthur continued to thrust into him until he came as well, spilling inside the younger with a groan.

Alfred gasped for breath as they lay in a pile of tangled limbs, head resting heavily on the other's chest; England ran his fingers through the younger's tousled mop of blond locks and hummed happily as they basked in the afterglow. "Remind me again why we didn't do this earlier."

Alfred chuckled breathlessly, "Because I was chicken shit and you weren't much better." Arthur mussed his hair. "Language." He reminded patiently. Alfred laughed at this hypocrisy' "You said a lot worse than that about five minutes ago, Arthur." He reminded. England chose to ignore this and hummed, "Shower now or later?"

"Depends, just shower or _shower sex_?" Alfred chuckled in reply. England raised an eyebrow, "What do you think?" The younger was up in seconds and tugging the other with him toward the bathroom, and Arthur laughed in surprise, "Does the term 'refractory period' mean _anything_ to you?" questioned the older, but he followed nevertheless. Alfred merely stuck his tongue. "But I get to top this time!" He added before swinging the door shut behind them. And who was Arthur to argue with him?

* * *

**Hey, guys! Sorry for the wait, but I think you'll forgive me with that piece. It took forever to write and almost as long to edit. Hope everyone had a safe and happy holiday season. PLEASE REVIEW!**


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